


Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love

by Knight_of_darkness



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Feels, As many wolf references I can make, But mostly fluff, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, Devotion, F/F, Female Eivor (Assassin's Creed), Fluff, Friendship, Gay mess Eivor, I mean it only turns sad in the end, Light Angst, Married Couple Behaviour, Mutual Pining, No Spoilers, Pre Valhalla, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Requited Unrequited Love, Romance, Sad with a Happy Ending, She takes ages to realize her feelings, Unresolved Tension, Yearning, they love each other but don't know it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:35:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27784600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knight_of_darkness/pseuds/Knight_of_darkness
Summary: “Here.” Randvi reached for her arm, not the one her head rested on, intertwining their fingers while pointing at the sky. Slowly so Eivor could follow, connecting the little sparks which made out the form of Nidhogg in the sky.Eivor smiled, fascinated. “Are there more?”Randvi’s face was gentle, the sparks reflected in her eyes and nodded. “This is Ratatosk.”Or,a pre Valhalla AU in which Eivor falls head over heels in love and takes a while to realize it.
Relationships: Eivor/Randvi (Assassin's Creed)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 381





	Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love

“Stop that.“ Eivor growled at Synin, amid her angry muttering, who was digging through her hair with his beak.

He cawed, like he was mocking her before nipping at her ear.

“I will not head back. He might keep me from going with Sigurd but he can’t keep me chained like a mangy dog to the longhouse.” She shooed Synin off, not moved at his protesting sounds. “I could endanger Sigurd with my impulsivity, better to keep me far away from him.” Her strokes with the whetstone got faster, her arms shook with fury, remembering Styrbjorn’s words. Eyes cold, voice impassive, standing with his hands folded behind his back.

Looking at her like a wild beast, drunk with blood lust, incapable to curb it in. She stopped sharpening the cutting edge of her spear, ramming its end into the snow beside her. 

She wished Sigurd would have taken her with him, but Sigurd did not fight his father on this. Only clasped her shoulders and told her he would return home with more verses to his saga.

Which left her stuck, ordered to stay at the village. Eivor would have preferred to at least sail out to raid in close waters. To steal into Kjotve’s, ever-growing like fungus camps and burn them to the ground, to fight him and-

Synin landed on her shoulder while she pushed the voice of her mother out of her mind. The sight of her father on his knees, the taste of copper and smoke on her tongue-

She exhaled, her breath appearing in the cold like the smoke of fire, like dragon’s breath. Stroking the embers of hate, of rage until her entire body was alight with it. Her day would come. She would kill Kjotve and erase the stain of her father’s cowardice on her line. She would enjoy every second of blood spilled, of dying groans.

She touched the scars on her throat. Nothing would stop her from that.

But for now she stood, shrugging the stiffness off her shoulders. Gaze wandering over the horizon, in a bid to see Sigurd’s colors, even if she knew he had only been gone for a fortnight. She did not look over her shoulder to see Fornburg. She would hunt and stay for a while longer in the wild, in the soothing isolation, alone with her thoughts.

Eivor shrugged off her furs, unbuckling her armor, and slipped out of her tunic until only her pants and breast-bindings remained. Clasping her leather baldric over her shoulder. She made sure her spear and axe were secure and set out after the paw prints she had found close by. The hunt would not take long and the sting of the cold made her burn even hotter, frenzied for blood.

Eivor was right, hearing Synin warning caw and crouched low, observing brown move against a heaven of white. The bear lumbered through the trees; the snow crunching beneath every footfall. Her heart hammered, echoing in her ears like a war drum, and she hushed after it, placing the spear on the ground with the most space for a fight. 

She weighted her axe on her hand, twirling it around while she considered a plan of attack and settled on storming into the fight.

The bear perked up in response of her roar. The creature whirled around, agile for something this big and roared itself, posturing. They meet in the middle; she rolled to evade its charge, using her movement to strike its leg.

She grinned, blood splattering onto her face, and it snarled in anger. Ducking under a swipe of its claws, the bear stood on its hind legs. Baring its belly, which she didn’t strike, not wanting to carve up the hide too much. 

Eivor concentrated on the legs and the head. Hit. Ducked. Rolled away. Hit. Hit. Not fast enough, claws tore over her shoulder and it stung sharply, turning into an throbbing ache.

It was impossibly stupid to fight a bear in such close quarters, but her blood sang with the thrill of the fight, at the copper taste filling her mouth. Mind gloriously empty.

It was hard, yet she took off in a run. Sidestepping a passing swipe and listened to the bear giving chase. Eivor sled the last few steps on the snow, her fingers grasping the spear. In one movement, turned and steadied the spear against the ground and herself.

A heartbeat later, she was nearly flattened to the ground as the bear gored itself on it. The force behind it shook Eivor and snapped the spear in half. Still, she laughed breathlessly, the bear stopped moving and warm blood spilled onto her body. The spear having torn into its jaw and stuck out between its eyes.

She let herself fall back on the snow and exhaled. The bear crumbling to the ground beside her. She shivered, teeth chattering, the mix of blood and snow prickled on her skin. The roaring in her head was silenced, mind clear while her body shuddered.

Yet a growl disrupted the moment of peace and Eivor’s eyes shot back open, half sitting up to see another bear. Eyes locked on her. She scrambled up, looking for her axe, not aware when she had dropped it and where.

Eivor cursed while the bear drew closer and she tried to free the remains of her spear, stepping on the dead one’s head to get more leverage. The other one, not at least amused, charged her. With one mighty pull she freed her spear, whirled around to fight the bear-

Faintly she heard the whoosh of an arrow released, something tickled her cheek- the bear crumbled to the ground, skidding on the snow until it reached her. Eivor reacted after years of fighting and threw her spear where the arrow had come from.

Turning in the yelp’s direction to look upon a woman. She shivered, teeth clattering, and Eivor risked only quick glances around her while meeting the woman’s gaze to seek her axe. She was without armor and weapon, her skin starting to go numb.

“Is this the Raven Clan generosity I heard tales about?”

“Randvi? What are you doing here?” Eivor shook off her surprise, not having seen the woman much since Styrbjorn announced the marriage to be.

She had stayed away. Her brother had almost left immediately after the announcement despite his father’s wishes, whining about being married off for peace. 

It was his duty and responsibility to his Clan, which she told him, but it did not quell the apprehension in her gut to be near a woman belonging to an enemy clan. They had exchanged few words and Eivor did not mind keeping it that way.

To see Randvi here, words teasing and yet barely sparing her a glance as she retrieved her arrow, was weird. Face stoic when she stood and offered Eivor’s lost axe, though her eyes shimmered, hiding something Eivor could not even dare to fathom.

Instead, she hesitantly took the offered weapon. Noting the knives and the axe hanging on Randvi’s belt, the thick furs she wore prepared for battle and her spine stiffened at being found so vulnerable.

“It’s quite foolish to fight a bear in such close quarters and in this condition.” Randvi regarded her, eyes intense, unyielding, alike the sea, which made Eivor take a step back and cross her arms. “You are quiet lucky I was near and heard the struggle.”

“Lucky? I have you know that I had it under control.”

“Whatever keeps your pride intact.” Mirth, Eivor discerned, Randvi was amused by her if she read the uptick of her brow correctly. “Take this before you are more ice than man.”

“No need.” Eivor jutted her chin out, glowering.

“I will not lug around your frozen body.” Randvi crossed her arms, unmovable like a mountain, not the last cowered by her.

She didn’t move despite the cold biting at her, clenching her teeth shut so they wouldn’t chatter.

“By Thor.” Randvi huffed, taking the furs back, but Eivor’s victory was short-lived as Randvi quick like a hare, threw it over her back and clasped it close. “This is not the time for stubbornness.” Not the least affected by Eivor’s growled protest.

Eivor straightened, disgruntled at being manhandled. “Are you pleased now?” She hissed like a cat after being disturbed from its sleep.

“I am.” Randvi offered far too smug, and Eivor grunted, stomping off into the direction of her camp. Ice, smoke and something unrecognizable clung to the furs and teased her nostrils with every step when she burrowed her nose in them. Not keen on losing her nose to frostbite.

“You are in quite a hospitable mood.”

“Am I?” She huffed, quickening her pace to escape all of this.

The camp luckily was not far off and she slipped back into her tunic, her armor and furs, warm from the fire. Carefully handing the furs back to Randvi. She trembled harder for a while, bod accustoming to the warmth.

“You seem to have made the wilderness your own.”

Eivor grunted, taking the wooden sled, she had prepared to move bigger kills and went back to the dead bears. All the while Randvi followed her, silent for now. It was admirable she had hit the bear so perfectly, shooting through its eye. Killed it instantly, examined Eivor when she knelt down beside the kill. 

Afterwards she struggled to heave the bear into the sled and flinched. Two hands sharing the burden and helping her. They worked fast and good together, no words shared until the last thing to do was pulling the sled. Eivor hooked the ropes over her shoulder and dragged the sled behind her. The snow eased the strain.

“You talk little, do you?” Randvi observed after a while of silence, snow crunching under her boots.

“I see no reason to.” Eivor rasped out, breathing hard from exhaustion. After everything, her limbs heavy and tired.

“Only reason to brood on a mountain away from your Clan.” Randvi replied with no sharpness, which usually would accompany Styrbjorn’s disapproval. Stepping into her path so Eivor had to a halt. Stare prodding, searching-

“Let me.” Randvi took one rope, hauling it over her own shoulder. Eivor’s protest silenced with a quick jab to her ribs, which had her stumble back in reflex.

Eivor considered saying something but taking in the resolute slope of Randvi’s shoulders, just walked on, grateful for the shared burden and the heat Randvi emitted with every brush of their shoulders. It left her uncomfortable, not at ease with someone so close to her. Accustomed to the Clan keeping their distance.

Few because they believed her to be a bad omen of the gods with her scar and the loss of her entire Clan, but most knew she liked her space. The only one brave enough to get into her space was Sigurd. He always slung an arm over her shoulders, nudged and pushed her around.

To have his bride to be this close, the ease in which Randvi seemed to exist around her, not the least apprehensive, was strange. But she would need to adapt to her presence, it seemed. “You did not answer my question earlier.”

“I sought some clarity, some space. All the talking has left me restless.”

Eivor weighted her responses, glancing at Randvi, but her copper hair obscured most of her face. A sudden curiosity overcame her. “And do you have it?”

“I am not sure yet.”

Randvi offered nothing more, leaving Eivor to ponder. It could not be easy to be part of a peace pledge, to leave your own Clan and instead walk with former enemies. To wake to the faces of strangers. She did not like how it reminded her of her first days, spent following Sigurd around like a stray. Grief pulsed through her veins like the venom of a snake, making her hands shake.

At the camp they pulled the sled to the side, before she sat down heavily on the trunk of a tree she had cut down. Eivor groaned and pulled with stiff fingers off her furs and her tunic to the side. Freeing her shoulder to get a closer look at the scratches there.

They were barely worth her attention. Four long red stripes, distinct claw marks. One bled sluggishly, it appeared deeper than the rest. For a fight against a bear, it was nothing.

She prodded it with her fingers and it throbbed and stung. She barely noticed Randvi sitting down beside her, and flinched violently when she touched the wound with a handful of snow on her palm. She stumbled, tripped to back away.

“What are you doing?” Eivor grunted, eyes narrowed.

“Helping you clean your wound before it gets infected.” Randvi raised a brow at her, head tilted. “Sit down and let me see to it.”

“I can do it myself.” Eivor rebuffed, hesitantly sitting back down.

“Perhaps, but I can see and reach it better.”

With narrowed eyes, Eivor conceded. She watched Randvi rub over her wound with snow, cleaning it, scrubbing lightly to avoid infection, her jaw clenched.

“I think I have herbs with me-”

“No.” Eivor swallowed, Randvi’s hand burning on her skin like the lick of a flame. “It will heal on its own, no need to waste them.”

Randvi’s expression turned stern. “Thank you.” Eivor interrupted her, glancing away and hoping it finished this conversation.

“Gladly, we wouldn’t want the prized drengr of the Raven Clan to succumb to an infection.”

“Prized?” Eivor scoffed, a frown etched into her features. “ Rather, a stuck and forbidden to leave one.”

“Is this why you’re hiding up here?” Randvi hummed, adding. “Yet word about your and your brother’s raids has spread. Styrbjorn would be foolish not to keep you close after the recognition your names now earn.”

“He only means to keep me on a leash.”

“You would know better.” Randvi replied, in a way it more sounded like Eivor did not. “But maybe it is a blessing that you remain here.” At Eivor’s questioning look, she continued. “The king grows old, no longer fighting but securing treaties, eyes far away from his territories and your brother is searching for glory.” She paused, chewed at her bottom lip. 

“The people need help. I was out here because the læknir sighted a wolf, close to where she goes to collect herbs and berries. It was a lone one, and I ended it, making it a worry less for the settlement. Yet there are many more things to do before the ice set ins.”

Eivor scratched her neck, following Randvi’s thoughts and recognizing the truth in them. Randvi was not yet considered a full member of the Clan, and yet she was already helping while Eivor had spent her time stewing in anger and only thinking of herself. The last raid had cost them Frode, one of their best archers and hunters. And Valka and Svend always needed help-

“You are leaving?” Her forehead creased when Randvi stood and she rose with her.

“There is still much to do and barely any light left.”

Eivor hesitated, mulling over her choices. “I’ll go with you.” Eivor decided, earning a smile from Randvi.

“Good, but I hope you will pull your weight, mighty bear slayer. I do not wish to spend the night with wolves nipping at our heels.” Randvi teased, the corners of her eyes crinkling.

* * *

Eivor staggered into her room, closing the door soundly behind her with a push of her shoulder. Fingers quick to unbuckle her weapons, she kept her axe on her bed and the rest on the table. She stripped bit by bit, her muscles ached, and she groaned in relief when she got her shift off.

Eivor let it fall to the ground and heaved herself into the wooden tub. Sinking down in relief, despite how it burned against her skin at first, the sensation faded. She sighed and closed her eyes. The heat settled into her bones and washed away the dirt and sweat from a long day of hard labor.

After a while she untangled the knots in her hair, took out her braids before she submerged herself completely in the tub. Eivor grumbled when she had to let her legs hang over the edge of the tube to fit, hissing at the sharp sting of the cold.

Eivor cleaned herself before she could fall asleep in the bath. Scrubbing away the grime which clung to her hands from where she had dug through the earth. Afterwards, she let herself enjoy the warmth for a while longer.

“Eivor?” The door opened the same time her eyes did, and she jerked upwards, splashing water on the floor.

“Oh-” Randvi stopped in her tracks, hand raised in mid-movement. “You are bathing.”

Eivor’s mouth opened and closed, as if it was not , but nodded. Not trusting herself to speak, coughing when Randvi’s eyes rested on her body a moment too long. She submerged herself, as best she could with her arms crossed over her chest, and attempted to maintain some of her dignity. She did not like that this was the second time Randvi came upon her unguarded.

“Did you need something?”

In the low light, with shadows hushing over Randvi’s features, only the way her gaze kept darting away from Eivor, told her she was not the only one embarrassed.

“Arne, he owns a smaller farm further west requested aid. He believes wolves have been killing his goats, alone in the last few days he bemoans the loss of five.”

“Wolves?” Eivor grimaced in distaste, fingers white around the tub. “And I guess you want me to set out now?” She barely kept the scowl from her face, her dream of slipping under her furs and sleep, dissipate like ships in the mist.

“We. Wolves should not be underestimated, and I do not believe it to be a lone. Not with how many kills happened.”

“Are those the insights shared in the Wolf Clan?” Eivor poked fun, after all it was not rare to encounter wolves.

“They are, and in your case likely needed.” Randvi raised her brow, lips in a flat line. “After all you wrestled a bear half naked, so I can not be too careful.” She shrugged, the corners of her lips quirking upwards.

“It worked out perfectly.” Eivor stood up from the bath, beyond feeling any shame, Randvi having already seen most, and dried herself off.

Not paying the strangled intake of breath behind her much mind, she wound out her hair before searching for a clean set of clothing. She strapped her armor as well as her weapons back on, not risking a fight with a pack of wolves without it. Knowing them to be fast and all too happy to bite. Last she fastened her arm ring back on and fumbled around for leather stripes to tame her hair.

“May I?” Eivor looked over her shoulder at Randvi, questioningly, who took the leather stripe from her hand. “Turn around.” Her voice was gentle and yet Eivor hesitated.

Baring her back, exposing her neck-it was all too frightening. Randvi often sought her out after having heard of another problem, another clan member who needed help. Sometimes they even solved those problems together, hunting down animals or materials.

More and more folk greeted Randvi with a smile and even stopped for a quick word. Slowly she carved out a place for herself among the people, her clear head and willingness to help appreciated by most, counting herself.

For her, it was an unfamiliar experience to work together with someone like this. Raids were different, either Sigurd or she had command and the others followed her orders. The people she was friendly with like Gunnar and Svend spent most times in their chosen profession and when they needed something she did it for them. 

To trust anyone beside Sigurd to have her back or discuss her plans with, even follow orders was different. Yet this left her more vulnerable, foreign to her. The only one who had ever braided her hair was Sigurd.

She swallowed, meeting Randvi’s gaze, which swayed her. There was warmth flickering in her gaze, not unlike the flame of a fire, a steadiness while she waited for an answer, without judgment or expectation. Wordlessly, she turned back around. Put a few smaller knives on her belt and stiffened when Randvi’s hands found her hair, brushing over her neck as she gathered it.

Eivor kept herself still, barely breathing. Goosebumps spread over her arms while Randvi raked with her fingers through her hair to smooth it out before she braided it. Randvi stepped closer, the heat of her body pressed into Eivor’s back as she methodically tied her hair together. Eivor just blankly stared up at the ceiling, unsure what to do.

Sigurd always talked. It was rare to find him silent, and he amused himself while braiding her hair either with bragging about his exploits or purposely tugging at her hair, leaving her to snarl and blindly reach behind her to hit him.

This had a unique feeling to it, perhaps because Eivor had not known Randvi for long. Or just was not familiar with such closeness. It was a weighted gesture in the setting sun, and her insides coiled around in her belly like snakes.

“This should do.” Randvi’s hand lingered, tracing the swirls of her tattoo, which covered her neck.

“As long as it will not block my sight while I fight.” Eivor cleared her throat as she faced Randvi, having to look down to keep eye contact, the height difference more pronounced this close to another. “Thank you.”

Randvi simply nodded, her hand coming to rest on Eivor’s arm. “Well, I’d prefer you would not fall onto your own axe while in battle because you could not see.”

“I’m gladdened you feel so.”

“What is this?” Randvi grasped her wrist, brows furrowed at the red mark on the back of Eivor’s hand.

“Nothing.” Eivor took her hand back, hastening to leave the room. “We should be on our way before dark.”

“It does not look like nothing.” Randvi persisted, following her.

“It’s a bite.” Eivor offered nothing more, happy Randvi had the foresight to ready the horses. Easily swinging herself into the saddle, she noted Randvi’s inquisitive stare. “It was a horse.” She spit out, urging her horse to move.

“A horse?” Randvi’s voice was blank, but Eivor could feel the mirth radiating from her.

“Yes, a damned horse.” Eivor hissed. “The bacraut ate more hay than we stored and when I took it away from him, he dared to bite me–are you laughing?”

Randvi shook her head but her laugh rung out clearly in the wind, not even the quickening of her horse quietening it. “I would never.” Her face remained stoic for but a moment, only to break, eyes falling back on Eivor’s hand, which held onto the bridle. Snorting, her cheeks red with laughter.

“I see how it is.” Eivor huffed, her jaw set, even though a smile teased her own lips. Randvi’s laughter enough balm to lessen the sting to her pride.

“Please-” She chortled again. “I vow to protect you from the wolves and if someone asks about your hand, I will spin a tale about how bravely you fought a magnificent beast.”

“Lying? To our people? I’m appalled.” Eivor contemplated, glancing at Randvi. “I hope you are true to your word, after all you are a little wolf.”

“Little wolf?”

“You are Wolf Clan.” Eivor shrugged. “It seems fitting for now.”

“For now.” Randvi avoided her gaze, sitting up straighter in her horse. “Of course.” All humor had fled her expression, her eyes stormy and unreadable like the sea.

Eivor kept quiet, not sure what to say. She knew Sigurd had been unhappy about the match, to not get to decide who to marry and forced to settle so soon. One reason he had left so quickly was he wanted in his words to enjoy the freedom of the sea for a while longer.

Sigurd at least got to stay with his people while Randvi had to leave hers. Eivor had thought little of it, yet seeing her now, so withdrawn all of a sudden, it weighed heavily on her chest. Sigurd was a good man and would be a good husband, but it was a minor comfort for Randvi who barely exchanged words with him. Eivor knew most folk married young and love found them later.

“I hope this stays between us,” Eivor said in the end, “It would be terrible to be called Eivor Horse-Bitten or Eivor Horse-Flattened.”

Randvi rolled her eyes, yet it teased a small smile onto her lips. “You have my word.”

* * *

“Too slow.” Eivor kicked Birger in the gut and he crashed to the ground.

He stayed down, his chest rising and falling in a quick pace, moaning. Eivor rolled her eyes, pacing around.

“Who’s next?” No one met her gaze, and a muscle in her jaw twitched while she crossed her arms.

Her hand clenched around the hilt of her sword with every step, her knuckles turned white. She was restless, waken from strange dreams with a hunger for a fight. While hard labor exhausted her body, it did not her mind. Too many thoughts in her mind, all getting louder and no more clear with every day. She needed to move, to fight, to quieten her mind.

Her raiding crew had demurred when she had asked them to train, but listened. Unfortunately, most of them comprised fresh blood. Dag was the only one beside her with actual experience, and he was off hunting with Svend. 

Leaving her to beat the rest to a pulp, with no real satisfaction. Which only added to her agitation. How was she expected to raid next spring when most of her crew seemed to barely even be capable of holding their swords up?

“Tove, come on.” The girl groaned but stood. While she was Svend’s apprentice, more interested in the arts, she needed to be able to fight and was the most capable of the bunch.

Eivor had assured that even if Tove was tired. “Stop whining. Shield up unless you want a sword to the face.” Eivor ducked beneath her slow swipe, knocking with her shoulder against Tove’s shield, making her stumble back a few steps.

“If this was an actual fight, you would have just died. Stumbling around leaves you wide open for attack.” Eivor parried her next swing, which Tove overreached on, and she was rewarded for it with a punch to the jaw with the pommel of Eivor’s sword.

Not full strength, but hard enough to split her lip open, leaving her cursing. Eivor pressed on, swinging at Tove who barely defended herself. Eivor gritted her teeth and rage curled up her throat until she swore she could breathe fire. Tove was not taking this seriously. Eivor had taught her better than that, and if she was fighting like this, she would die.

“Defend yourself.” Eivor growled, her muscles bulged under the strain to keep her strength in check. Yet her swings against Tove’s shield made it splinter.

“I think that’s enough.” Another sword caught her next blow. Eivor snarled, the veins in her throat throbbing painfully. She blinked, noticing Randvi standing before her, gaze firm, only looking away to send the crew away.

“What has gotten into you?” Randvi scowled and broke the lock of their swords with a push.

“I was training them.”

“You were beating them up-”

“Which is part of it, how will they ever survive a raid if they can’t take a few hits.”

“Not like this. I have seen you train them before. Did you not see how afraid Tove was?”

Afraid? Tove of her? Eivor stopped, taking a step back. She had trained them like always. Of course they had muttered and scurried around, but- some of her anger settled while she considered Randvi’s words.

She wanted her enemies to fear her, not her own crew. Eivor had worked them like always, so what if she been harder on them, used more strength? Raiding was not for the faint heart or the weak. Yet they had jumped around her more than usual, and there had been no laughter or teasing words. Only her growled commands while pushing them to the ground repeatedly.

“I-.” Her brows furrowed while she rubbed over her face with her hand. “I am sorry.” Eivor sighed, realizing she must have let her anger get away from her. Battle always helped with her frustrations, but usually she had enemies to fight. She averted her gaze, anger curling around her heart like a cat claimed a warm spot close to the fire.

“What happened?” Randvi closed the distance between them and cupped her jaw. Frown still in place but a worried tilt to her lips.

“Nothing. I don’t know, it’s just-” Eivor sighed, trying to put her thoughts into words. “Sigurd is out there and I’m here. Styrbjorn won’t even let me lead a raid close by and hovers around me like expects me to go against his command and everything I’m doing is hunting and farming, helping build up stores and homes and-” She broke off.

“You have grown restless.” Randvi looked far to understanding to her plight, which made an ache settle inside her. “But it is no excuse.”

“I know.” Eivor inhaled, allowing herself the weakness to lean against Randvi’s hand. Knowing she would need to apologize to Tove and be careful when she next trained them.

“I won’t be able to persuade the King otherwise but I’ll try.” Randvi offered, thumb rubbing over her cheek. “For now, you can fight me.”

“You?” Eivor tilted her head to the side, staring at Randvi.

“Yes, or are you afraid to be beaten?”

Eivor’s heart raced at the challenge, yet she hesitated. What Randvi used, swiping for her legs. She barely blocked the hit, eyes narrowing. “I would not know.”

“Quiet sure of yourself Wolf-Kissed.” Randvi parried her blow, whirling around and backhanded her into the stomach.

Eivor coughed, air knocked out of her and bared her teeth. “I’m not scared of a little wolf.” She teased, ducking under Randvi’s answering swing.

“Is that so?”

Keeping their distance, they circled each other, both grinning, the thrill of a good fight exhilarating to no end. They tested each other, quick blows exchanged. Randvi’s blows hit sure and quick, eyes calculating. She lured Eivor into attacks only to sidestep in the last second.

Eivor panted, sweat running down her spine. Randvi exhausted her until the sword was heavy in her arms and her muscles shook. Randvi danced around her and as Eivor got slower, landed more and more blows with the flat edge of her sword. Yet Eivor waited, sure she could endure, to wait for Randvi’s trap and ensnare her herself.

Which came quickly, Randvi this time did not avoid her blow but met it with her sword, muscles straining as she pushed against Eivor, who held firm. In the blink of an eye, Eivor hit the ground, Randvi having kicked out a leg under her. Eivor held steady and their swords screeched, sliding against each other.

Eivor had a heartbeat to brace for another blow, half kneeling, pushing it down her body and used having Randvi’s sword hand so close to reach out, grasp it with her free hand. Twisting it so Randvi had to let go and already tasted victory as she held up her sword, pointing it at Randvi’s chest.

Yet cold steel brushed against her throat. Blinking down, Randvi had a knife to her throat. Cerulean eyes blazing as she looked down at Eivor.

“Afraid now?” Randvi arched up a brow, a smirk adorning her features.

Eivor swallowed, throat bobbing while her heart raced, and her knees wobbled beneath her. Stupidly blinking up at Randvi, a heat spreading through her like she was too close to a fire and in danger of being burned. Especially with how Randvi’s fiery hair had mostly escaped her braid and framed her face like flickering flames.

“I did not lose.”

“No?” Carefully, the dagger nudged against her chin, baring her neck. She licked her lips. The air tingling on her skin as if it was trembling with a barely contained storm.

“You won.” Eivor rasped out, baring her neck completely while Randvi remained for a moment before she slipped the dagger back on her belt, offering her hand.

An unfamiliar expression crossed her eyes before it was hidden away. Her hand warm and calloused in hers, Eivor squeezed it briefly and stood.

Rolling her shoulders and sheathing her own sword. Her blood buzzed and her muscles ached pleasantly. She grinned over her shoulder at Randvi.

“Who would have known the little wolf had so sharp teeth.” Eivor chortled, a scoff from Randvi and a hit to the back of her head was the response.

“And don’t you forget it.”

* * *

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Were you not the one begging to do something? We never have too much for winter.”

“Something exciting like a hunt or a fight.” Eivor crossed her arms, staring ahead. “Not sit in a boat all day, waiting for fish.” Her lips curled in distaste, leg bouncing up and down.

“You are behaving like a child.” Randvi replied, nudging her. “This was meant to be soothing. The quiet, the sound of the waves, no one in need of us. A hunter like you should know the importance of patience.”

“I do not just sit around and wait for a deer to come across me. This is repetitious, throwing out the line and waiting, so unexciting.”

Randvi glanced at her. “You are a warrior at heart.”

“I wasn’t always.” Eivor exhaled, tracing with her fingers over the planks of the boat. “But now I am. Always thinking about the next fight. And then there is still Kjotve.” She spat the name. “I will have my vengeance and I’ll await the day I paint my axe with the reds of his blood with eagerness. The thought alone keeps me company at night and stays with me all day. The Great Norns plug at the string of my fate, shrouding everything else in darkness with but one path forward.”

“And afterwards, what will you do then?” Randvi pressed closer to her side, voice carefully low.

“Afterwards?” The word tasted foreign to her tongue, and the question left her mouth to open and close with no proper answer. She shrugged. “I do not know. I suppose I never thought that far ahead. I’ll guess there will always be battles to be fought.”

“I can’t fathom how hard it must be, losing your whole clan, your family like that.” Randvi paused, gaze distant. “When my father died, my mother was inconsolable, as was I, but I also shared the same anger with my brother. My father was a skilled warrior, for him to die at sea did not seem a fitting end. Yet there was no one to curse at. Our fates are fixed and the gods must have willed it.” Her eyes swam with tears. “May the gods love and keep him until we may meet again.” Her voice broke into a whisper, eyes squeezed shut when she reached for Eivor, entangling their hands. Her hand trembled in Eivor’s.

She said nothing, eyes fixed on Randvi and the shimmering paths left on her cheek from tears. The set of her shoulder spoke of resolve, strength in the grip she had on Eivor. She was captivated, and she watched Randvi roll her neck from side to side, the way the muscles moved beneath her skin and shoot Eivor a smile when she noted her attention.

“Enough of this. I came here for good company and food, and I’m lacking in both.” If it weren’t for her eyes Eivor would have believed the tease in the curl of her lips to be true, yet-Eivor wanted to reach out, to dive deeper and solve the mystery Randvi presented.

But she held back, something telling her this was not the right time, understanding Randvi’s silent plea for reprieve.

“I’m wounded, I’ve been told I’m splendid company and while I’m mighty even I have no control over the seas. So the lack of catch can hardly be my fault.” Eivor protested, hitting her chest to emphasize how wounded she was at the notion alone.

“That pride must be heavy to bear.” Randvi answered solemnly, only the tick of her brow giving her away.

“Why do you think my shoulders are this strong?”

Randvi laughed, shaking her head. “This at least I can believe. Come.” Randvi turned around so she could lay down along the length of the boat and pat the space beside her. “I do not think we will catch anything today.”

Eivor nodded, observing the waves around them for a moment, aware of the dark, but they weren’t far away from shore and it would be easy enough to row back. Instead, she did as Randvi bid, laying down to her side, exhaling and watched her breath mist in the cold.

“Gunnar will laugh at us for coming back empty-handed.”

“He does not need to know.”

“He will and then everyone will because he loves his rumors.”

“Well, it is no rumor that Frida just left him because he was more _preoccupied_ with himself than her.”

“What?” Eivor’s breathed out strangled at how Randvi stressed the preoccupied, not missing how Randvi shook with laughter. “No.”

“It is true.” Randvi grinned, amused by leaving Eivor speechless.

“How do you even know that?”

“The older women like to talk while weaving, you would learn a lot if you were to join us.” Randvi smirked and settled closer, her warmth sinking into Eivor.

“Never. Hilda and Estrid are malicious. I still believe they are draugr coming back from death to wrought havoc on us.”

Randvi slapped her shoulder, shaking her head even as she chortled. “They aren’t that bad.”

“That’s a lie, little wolf. Do not presume that I did not see you quickening your pace when they call for you, the way you pretend not to hear.”

“That’s a grave accusation.” Randvi glared, her lips pressed thinly together. “From someone who’s been called sullen and quarrelsome by them.”

“They have been saying that since the day I’ve become part of the Clan.” Eivor dismissed the words, playfully wiggling with her brow while she crossed her arms behind her head. “And it is true after all.”

Which earned another laugh from Randvi. “You do like to brood.”

“Such slander. You wound me deeply.”

“You’ll survive.” Randvi exhaled, settling with her head on Eivor’s arm, strands of her hair tickling Eivor’s neck and jaw. Eivor blinked down at her, surprised by the gesture, but stayed.

Her heart pounded in her chest to the rhythm of Randvi’s breathing. Perhaps she had spoken the truth. It was soothing to be out here, far away from anything. Even in the cold of the dark, only warmth pulsed through her.

“There.” Randvi spoke, pointing up to the sky. “You can see Nidhogg.”

Eivor looked up at the sky, seeing the sparks on the night sky, but only saw the biggest one, which they used to navigate the sea. Only knowing Nidhogg was the serpent, living at the roots of the world tree and gnawing at them for eternity.

“Where?”

“Here.” Randvi reached for her arm, not the one her head rested on, intertwining their fingers while pointing at the sky. Slowly so Eivor could follow, connecting the little sparks which made out the form of Nidhogg in the sky.

Eivor smiled, fascinated. “Are there more?”

Randvi’s face was gentle, the sparks reflected in her eyes and she nodded. “This is Ratatosk.”

* * *

“Silence.” King Styrbjorn raised his right hand and stepped close to her. “My word is final and you will obey.”

Eivor snarled, hands balled into fists by her side. Jaw clenched so tightly shut, to keep the words in she wanted to spit into his face. A veil of red descending over her vision.

It took everything to say nothing. Instead she stormed to her room, the door hitting the stone with a crack. She ripped open drawers in search for her things. For everything she needed.

He could not keep her here. It was her right.

Quickly Eivor fastened her various weapons onto herself, throwing her shield onto her back last before she regarded the room for a moment, deciding she had everything she needed.

“Eivor?”

“Not now.”

“Stop.” Eivor growled as Randvi kept her from sidestepping her with hand splayed on her chest. She glared down at her, only the wish not to do harm, kept her from her shaking herself free and leave. “What is your plan?”

“I will kill him.”

“And that’s it?” Randvi asked in disbelief, brow quirked upward. “Eivor.” It was admonishing, and it irked Eivor. Further poking at the creature inside her howling for blood, antsy to snap and rip apart- “Breathe.” Randvi glared, effectively silencing her. “I won’t let you leave like this, nearly crazed with madness.”

Eivor bared her teeth, but Randvi stayed firm. Growling, she did as Randvi bid, squeezing her eyes shut. But her mind went back to him, stroking the fire inside her.

“Breath with me.” Randvi urged and Eivor tried, listening to her breath and slowly the smoke cleared from her head, the scorching anger inside her, simmering down to a more tameable flame. She exhaled deeply.

“I will go.” Eivor insisted firm, no one would stop her from going, not even Randvi.

“I know and I want you to go.” Eivor opened her eyes, head tilted in confusion. “It is your fate to kill him.” Randvi reached up to cup her cheek. “But not for you to die beside him. You can’t let your anger cloud your reason, swear it to me.”

Eivor swallowed, tongue heavy. Her mouth tasted like ash, her veins burned with fury. She met Randvi’s gaze, the steadiness offered in it enough to calm the storm of her feelings.

“I swear it.” Eivor covered the hand on her cheek with her own and in a gesture which surprised herself, she whispered a kiss against Randvi’s inner wrist. “My one day won’t be tied to his.”

Randvi exhaled, her stiff posture falling away while her hand left Eivor’s chest and stayed on her stomach “Good, then wait for nightfall and I shall distract the King.”

“I do not want his anger to turn onto you.”

“He won’t know a thing. He and I have much to discuss, and even then he likes nothing more than to drink and weave the tales of his greatest battles for me.” Randvi faintly smiled, rolling her eyes.

“Nightfall, then. I must ready my crew.” Eivor replied, a sudden hesitancy stirred at the thought of leaving Randvi behind. “Thank you.” She added, not sure how to put into words how Randvi had caressed her rage so carefully it went from snarling and barely waiting to pounce like a wildcat, to calm and wait patiently for its prey.

“No thanks needed. Just come back swiftly before the ice returns.” Randvi drew away, walking backwards a few steps as if she did not wish to leave either. Something shifted in her eyes and yet before Eivor had the chance to discover it fully, there was a smile on her face and humor in her voice. “And before the King caves in the longhouse with the shakes of his rage.” She threw over her shoulder and Eivor shook her head at the thought, a grin on her lips.

* * *

In one swift movement, her dagger pierced the space where moments ago Dag’s hand had rested. “I hope you did not just attempt to rob me of my rightful gainings.”

Dag sneered and pointed at her with his finger. “This game-you cheated somehow.” He threw his hands in the air, staggering on his feet.

“It is inconceivable how you could have lost, Dag. With how sober you appear.”

“You-” He trailed off, still gesticulating wildly, until he stumbled and fell on his ass.

The reaction was instant, drunken cheers rung out and more than one shouted. “Skal!”

Randvi howled with laughter, her entire face bright with it, head thrown back, careless and fierce, while the tankard in her upraised hand sloshed dangerously. Eivor snorted, throwing an arm over her shoulder to steady her. Moving so Randvi’s back was pressed halfway across Eivor’s front and side, her head resting on Eivor’s shoulder. Randvi’s eyes were clouded with drink and her cheeks were nearly as fiery as her hair while her laughter pattered off into giggles, which she hid n Eivor’s neck.

Eivor took another mouthful of mead with her free hand, putting the Orlog pieces back together and settled them where they hopefully wouldn’t get thrown out. She played with the coins she liberated from Dag, eyes darting over the longhouse, all the folk gathered and celebrating the return of the sun, the end of winter and the beginning of spring.

Even Styrbjorn was eating and drinking, talking to Svend and Gunnar. A sharp difference to the sunless months of winter, the way he had shouted and threw around things in the longhouse after she came home from her lead on Kjotve with a scar more, a camp of his less but not his head in her hands. He had sent her to her rooms like an unruly child, and they laid the topic to rest.

Now with spring here and him giving up the hope to tame her, leash her, he would harness her again and she couldn’t wait to get to raiding again. To fight. And while he thought it would distract her, she would search on for Kjotve and burn down every single one of his camps.

“What has you grinning like that?” Randvi looked up, poking at her cheeks as if to make sure what she was seeing was not an illusion.

“It’s spring.” Eivor grinned wide, rubbing her cheek against Randvi’s hair like a cat. The smell of ice and the honey used for the mead clung to it. “It’s time to raid and pillage, to sail under the sun, taste freedom again.”

Randvi shook her head, her breath ghosted over Eivor’s neck, which sent shivers down her spine. “Of course you are already thinking of battle.” She took hold of a strand of hair, which had escaped Eivor’s braid and played with it.

“Have I ever thought of anything else?” Eivor gulped down more mead. “Beside I remember someone else being rather restless. Enough to whine for a hunt in the middle of a storm.” Eivor looked down at Randvi, brow raised.

“What a foolish thing, I can not think of anyone that reckless.” She replied calmly, drinking more mead. “Like someone fighting a bear with no armor.”

They held the stare for a moment, solemn before bursting into more laughter, Randvi resting most of her weight against Eivor. Sighing, her eyes closed and Eivor exhaled, content with the mead and laughter, the warmth from Randvi and the fire.

Startling quiet badly, she just kept a hold on her tankard when the doors of the longhouse crashed open. A lone figure stumbled in, tripping over their own feet, and the hall fell silent.

In the blink of an eye she was back, dancing, quarreling with Sigurd, holding the arm ring in her hand, presenting it to King Styrbjorn, her father singing in her ears-

The shouts and screams, the heat of fire and the smell of smoke, the white horse-

“Eivor-” She blinked. The hall was quiet, the man in worn clothes spinning a tale of how his village had been attacked, how the raiders went deeper into the territory, which belonged to their Clan. He begged for aid.

All eyes turned to the King, air charged. He stroked his beard and contemplated, brows knitted together.

“Did you see their hissed colors?”

“Black and red, my King.”

Her heart stopped, only to pound like a battering ram against her ribs. The King’s gaze flickered to her. Eivor opened her mouth, but he cut her off with his hand.

“Eivor, gather your crew, set sail immediately. They will pay with blood for their transgression.” He commanded, and the crowd cheered.

Eivor nodded at him, not sure why he chose her. Maybe he was sure she would go with his blessing or not, but it did not matter. She reached for her axe, holding it up in the air.

“Everyone sober enough to stand and to fight, take your weapons and prepare the boat now.” Her voice echoed. “We will strike fear into our enemies’ hearts, they will sing lullaby’s to their children about today, warning them to never dare to go against the Raven Clan.” 

They met her words with a roar and Dag lead it, stumbling no more as they spilled out of the longhouse for fast packing.

“It’s surprising.” Eivor had nearly forgotten Randvi, who stood beside her.

“What is?”

“This attack, so shortly after the ice broke and so near to the settlement.” Her arms were crossed while she observed the village man, who was talking to the King.

“Do you want to come with me?”

Randvi's attention flickered to her. Honest surprise flashed over her face. Yet she seemed conflicted, biting her lip before she rejected her offer. “Always, but not today.” She grasped Eivor’s arm.

Eivor’s neck burned. “Next time then.” Eivor answered Randvi’s smile, pleased at the thought of raiding side by side with Randvi. She had seen her hunt and spar but never in a proper battle and the sudden desire sparked to life inside her. Visions of seeing Randvi embraced by fire and painted with blood of her enemies took seed in her heart.

Blooming under the touch of Randvi’s hand. “Today is not your one day.”

“It is not.” Eivor assured Randvi, and it was much too simple to lean down and press a kiss against the top of her head. “I shall return shortly, save some mead for me, little wolf.” She murmured against her hair before she stepped away.

Randvi rolled her eyes, cheeks still red from the mead. “I will promise nothing.”

Eivor laughed, letting her have the last word and with sure feet went to the ship. The dock bustled with quick preparations. Dag already in his place and Eivor was glad she had kept her weapons on her. They needed not much for this quick trip, the village by sea not too far from them.

They were swift, Eivor stood at the helm, enjoying the cold, salty air, blowing through her hair, the wind in their sails. She had missed being on the ship, listening to the waves and the rowing of her men. After nearly a year on the shore, it thrilled her, she was shaking with it.

Dag’s face reflected the same thought, as did the most of the others. Only the young ones couldn’t hide their apprehension, their nerves. She would need to inspire them to fight well before landfall.

“What do you know about the village?” Eivor asked Dag, pulling out her axe and running with her fingers over its edge when they had sailed for a time.

He grunted and paused with folded hands on his oar. “It’s nothing much, a tiny fishing village. They trade mostly.”

She paused, contemplating his words, and halted her fiddling. “So why would have Kjotve any interest in it?” Goosebumps appeared on her skin, a cold chill which had nothing to do with the sea crawled under her skin.

“Perhaps he wanted to start small, see how we answer his transgressions into our territory.” Dag shrugged, going back to rowing. “Or his men just set out without a plan and hoped for more.”

Her eyes narrowed, darting over the horizon. Kjotve’s cruel laugh echoed through her ears. He did not care for honor or glory but was ambitious, cunning in trying to bring the whole north under his banner. Something about this did not sit right with her.

“The messenger-” Her thoughts ran wild, forming a picture in her mind, a suspicion. “How did he reach us? And how was he neither hurt nor bloodied? Only a coward would not have fought, he is not a child.”

Dag looked up, and they shared one thought. “He could be a distraction. With Sigurd still gone-”

“And Odger with his crew fishing-we need to turn around.” Eivor snarled. “Turn around now!” She shouted, cold settling in her gut, dread heavy, a sensation she had never encountered like this.

Dag hollered his own commands, and they turned swiftly and all to slow at once. There were few warriors fit for battle left at the settlement, and no one expected an attack filled with food and drink. Just like back then.

She tightened the straps on her bracer, knotting them tightly to her arm. She should have known, Randvi-

Randvi-She had to tighten her grip on the boat, knees weak beneath her, and she dangerously swayed. Randvi was back at the settlement, one of the few capable fighters, someone who protected their own to the death-

She coughed, a knot in her throat as she tried to swallow. Her nostrils flared and ground her jaw. She would not allow Kjotve to take someone else from her. “Row faster!” She roared, pacing in the limited space she had. Cold gripped her heart and twisted, mind filled with a vision of her people, of Randvi, overrun, slaughtered-

And they were rowing too slow, with this pace they would come home to fire and ash. She cursed the winds, who had not moments before seemed favorable. “Get out of the way.” She grabbed one of her man by the scruff of his neck, nearly threw him to the side and took his place. Grasping the oar and rowed. She growled and used her anger for strength. Kept rowing.

Dag sounded muffled to her ears, Eivor closed her eyes. Anger had clouded her mind and now she was on the edge of losing everything she cared about again. Perhaps she should have stayed, listened to Randvi’s suspicion more closely, but the promise of carnage, of being one step closer to Kjotve, had been enough to distract her.

She pushed it down. She would not be too late.

“Ahead!” Eivor’s head shot up at Dag’s shout, startled.

Eivor stood, ignored the shaking of her arms. Taking in the smoke, the screams that reached them. The fight was still going on.

“Synin.” A heartbeat later, the raven landed on her shoulder. “Find Randvi!” He pushed off her shoulder with a crow.

She blew her horn, hoping to scare the raiders, to distract them and make them focus on them. Eivor did not look back before she jumped from the ship, the moment they were in shallow enough waters.

Pushing through the water with a single purpose in mind. Slaughter everyone. She jumped into the fight with ferocity. The cold inside her replaced by the hot embers of her anger. Sparks flew as steel met steel, kindling the fire inside, licks of rage stirring in her belly.

Eivor lashed out with her axes, ducking and weaving. Punching and kicking. Barely separating her own and the enemy. Her heartbeat a drum, accompanying the sound of death, symphony of screams, playing the sound of war. Sweat and blood dripped down her chin, her ears rung with shouts, screams, dying breaths but not Synin’s caws.

Her braid whipping through the air with every turn, every strike. Blood spattering until its copper taste clung to her tongue and glassy eyes filled her vision. Smashing one axe into an enemy’s head while burying her other in the leg of another. Kicking him to the ground and stomped on his throat.

A caw caught her attention and following it for a breath she saw a familiar red. Randvi fought alone against four enemies and held her own. Ducking and weaving, hammer and axe spun in a deadly dance before another enemy blocked her sight.

But it was enough: with a snarl she freed herself of her enemies, sidestepping others, and made her way to Randvi. Eyes wide when she noticed the archer behind Randvi, nocking an arrow.

She rolled the axe around in her grip and within a heartbeat it was cradled in the archers chest. She cut her way through with a single axe and closed the remaining distance between Randvi in her. Together they brought a quick end to their enemies.

“Are you alright?” Eivor asked, hand immediately touching Randvi’s cheek when her eyes fell on the sluggishly bleeding cut on it.

“Are you?” Eivor could not find the words to describe the feeling rising in her throat. It remained veiled from her sight, but was heavy in her chest while Randvi offered her a weak smile. A finger prodding her shoulder, which sent a sharp sting through it.

Eivor exhaled, shoulders slumping while she took Randvi’s hands in hers and held them to her chest. Randvi leaned up, their breaths intermingling, brushing over each other faces before she softly rested their foreheads together. 

Her thumb rubbed over Randvi’s knuckles, everything quietened. Jormungandr could have sprayed the skies and seas with its poison, and she wouldn’t have noticed.

She stayed in Randvi’s embrace, every breath an assurance Randvi was alive, was well and she rapidly blinked when her eyes burned. Eivor inhaled deeply, eventually stepping back when Synin landed on her shoulder. Randvi shifted to her side and looked over the settlement. Noting the silence for the first time.

“We should help.” Eivor sighed, observing the first few running around extinguishing the remaining flames, observed King Styrbjorn giving orders to see to the wounded, his nose broken and bleeding.

“Let them do it.” Randvi shook her head, hand on Eivor’s wrist. “We’ve done enough. And we should look after your wounds.”

“And yours.” Eivor countered, letting Randvi lead them into the mostly unscathed longhouse and to her room.

“Sit down.” Eivor stepped away and left, coming back with water and cloth.

Kneeling down in front of Randvi, who sat on the bed. She moistened the cloth and gave Randvi a look to assure her touch was allowed. Carefully she began to clean Randvi’s face from blood fresh and dried. Softly, to not irritate the cut and make it bleed again. Her spine tingled at the way Randvi looked down at her between her legs, especially as Eivor grasped her chin to turn her from side to side.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” Eivor asked, voice barely above a murmur while wringing out the cloth.

“My back.” Eivor nodded and sat back on her heels while Randvi unbuckled her belt and armor, hesitating before helping her out of her boots. She kept her gaze to the ground when Randvi stood and walked away from her. Listened to the clinks of armor and weapons being shed.

Only looking up when Randvi sat down on the bed once more, this time with her back to her. Eivor froze, lips parted while she stared at the so suddenly exposed expanse of milky white skin in front of her. Randvi had slipped her shift of her shoulder, held it to her chest while exposing her shoulders down to her lower back.

Eivor’s fingers itched with the want to follow the line of her spine, to watch muscle jump underneath smooth skin. Randvi’s hair was no longer tamed in a high braided ponytail, but spilled in red waves over her shoulders and it gave her a tenderness, a loveliness, which made Eivor’s hands shake.

She forced down these thoughts, hid the tremble of her hands and focused on the gash on the mid of Randvi’s back. Randvi recoiled under her first touch, sharply exhaling, and Eivor apologized, cleansed it and determined if it needed stitches or not. It wasn’t as shallow as the cut on her face, but not deep enough to warrant stitches.

Eivor stood, looking away once more even as fingers twitched and wanted to trace the smoothness of Randvi’s skin, seek out the few scars littered on it. Surprised when Randvi took the cloth from her hand and wrung it out.

“Where are you hurt?” Her gaze darted over Eivor’s form, brow twitching when Eivor denied having any wounds.

“Bruises, but nothing more.” Eivor assured, waving her off.

“Your face is still bloody.” Randvi persisted and methodically cleaned it while Eivor shied from her gaze, unsure, out of balance. Having no one ever doing something like this for her. She remained stiff, arms held tightly to her side, and gulped when Randvi moved on. Took her hand and wiped the blood from her hand, one finger at a time. Touch sure, but light.

It was comforting, and Eivor did not feel the need to break the silence. Afterwards Randvi placed the bowl on the desk and when Eivor prepared to take her leave, gasped her hand.

“Stay?” Randvi asked, eyes beseeching, strong as the call of the sea, and Eivor easily complied, unbuckling her weapons, removing her armor and boots.

She wavered when she turned. Taking in Randvi wrapped in her furs, appearing far more delicate in the way she had curled up in the moonlight, then under the rays of the sun. It appeared like Eivor had stumbled onto a goddess in the wild, onto something private, intimate, and even standing here seemed sacrilegious of her.

Even more so when Randvi’s eyes found her while she shuffled on her feet. Eivor barely breathed, but Randvi merely patted the space beside her. All so carefully Eivor lowered herself down on the bed, keeping enough distance not to encroach into Randvi’s space, all too warm with the surrounding furs. Hyper aware of everything, her skin tingled.

With how quiet it was, she heard the deep sigh all too well and froze while Randvi shifted closer. Nearly biting her tongue when Randvi molded herself against her. Mind fuzzy and tasting blood and her breath hitched involuntarily with the way Randvi pressed her whole back against her front.

It overwhelmed all of her senses, a flutter in her belly, and she tried to ignore how Randvi’s shape pushed into her groin. Leaving her wide awake but weirdly content, being this close to Randvi, to be all encompassed by her. Eivor swallowed and closed her eyes.

* * *

“I missed this. You by my side, the world to our feet.”

“You were gone long, brother.” Eivor stepped up beside him, gaze sweeping over the cliff down to the settlement.

“I wished quite often for you to be by my side.” Sigurd threw his arm over her shoulder, pulling her into his side. “You should have been, seen all that I have seen.” He trailed off, wistful, rubbing over his beard.

“There was a lot to do around the settlement and my own battles to fight.” Eivor bumped his shoulder with hers.

“Kjotve.” He nodded, brows pulled together. “I promise it is always going to be like this.” He looked down at her, solemn. “Us taming the sea, plundering the world, rule together, as equals.”

“You’ll be a married man tomorrow.” Eivor reminded him, scratching at her neck, bewildered by the sudden turn of conversation.

“Nothing will change.” His voice was certain, meant to emphasize his promise, and she avoided his gaze, crossing her arms.

This was not what she had meant. She knew her place was by his side, but Randvi’s would be too and hearing him so unconcerned, indifferent to the vows he would make tomorrow-

It left an unpleasant taste in her mouth, the way he seemed to shrug his responsibility as a husband off before he even was married.

“I will be next to you till the world burns and we fight side by side next to the other einherjar in Ragnarok.” Eivor vowed, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“Enough of this.” Sigurd patted her shoulder, stepping back. “We have grandfather’s sword and now is the time to drink.”

“Drink?”

“What did you think all these caskets were for?”

“Not to get drunk on a cliff the day before your wedding.”

“Live a little!” Sigurd laughed, spreading his arms wide. “Tonight we are kings.” He shouted up to the sky, with ease, hefting one casket previously tied to the horse over his shoulder.

He settled down next to the fire, opened it with his axe and gulped down mead before Eivor even made her way to him. She rolled her eyes.

“Give it to me.” She swallowed down mead, knowing she did not want to be sober with Sigurd drunk and pointed at him, threateningly. “I won’t carry you home.”

He waved her off, a smirk on his face. “I can hold my mead.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

* * *

“You are an idiot.” Eivor grumbled, grabbing Sigurd’s arm just in time to catch him.

Swaying dangerously herself, her nose wrinkled as he leaned most of his weight on her, smelling like a whole alehouse. He snorted, laughing boisterously and nearly taking both of them down to kiss the ground.

“Be quiet.” She shushed, blinking furiously to concentrate on the longhouse. Sigurd hanging onto her like dead weight.

She knocked them both against the door when she stumbled while attempting to open it. Somehow with some thumps and crashes she herded Sigurd into his room and unceremoniously threw him into his bed. Letting him groan and turn onto his back on his own, she closed the door and made for her own bed.

Haziness and the dark did not help. She cursed as she stumbled over something, catching herself on the wall.

“Eivor?”

Her head snapped up, and she regretted it almost immediately, with the way the world spun and swayed like a ship on the stormy sea and had to swallow down her nausea.

“You are drunk.” She opened her eyes, remembering someone had spoken.

“Randvi!” Eivor grinned, elated like a sailor who was after weeks on the shore back on the sea. Her vision swam, but she could make out Randvi in her night-shift, leaning against a pillar, hair down, furs wrapped around her shoulders.

“That answers my question.” She shook her head and gaze lingered on the door behind Eivor.

“He’ll be alright, completely sober, do not be worried.” Eivor promised, more staggering than walking up to Randvi, who grasped her arms to steady her.

“I’m not-, It does not matter.” Randvi her head to her chest and Eivor’s heart clenched when she looked back up, a weird, empty smile on her face.

“Are you well?” Eivor lowered her head, catching Randvi’s fleeting gaze.

“I am.” She did not like the way Randvi said it, and a certainty arose in her chest that she was not. Eyes blank and dark, so different from usual, Eivor hummed unsure before she pulled her into an embrace.

Wrapping her arms around her tightly and tucked her head under her chin. Her mead addled brain searched for something to say. Yet her silence seemed enough, Randvi sighed and her cold nose brushed over the column of her throat as she buried deeper into Eivor.

Eivor patted her back, combed with her fingers through Randvi’s hair. Nuzzling it with her nose, the sensation soft and tickling, and it delighted her to no end.

“It’s time to get you to bed.” Randvi drew back, a smile which reached her eyes on her lips and Eivor’s exhaled, grinning lopsided, pleased with herself. “Come on.” Randvi accompanied her to her room, keeping her in one piece only stopped when they reached the threshold to lean against the door frame.

“Wait.” Eivor glanced over her shoulder, squinting because her room was darker than the main hall. “I wanted to give you something.” Eivor observed Randvi who did not look at her, reach beneath her shift and pull out a necklace, holding it up as Eivor padded closer.

She reached out, cupping the pendant in her palm. Thor’s hammer, Mjölnir forged out of bronze, the design and little details filigree and beautiful.

“It was my fathers.” Eivor’s eyes shot up and she let it go. “He gave it to me after my first raid, he was so proud. He said it protected him all these years, and he wanted me to have it.” Randvi’s mused, eyes soft even as her voice broke.

“I can not accept it.”

“I want you to have it, something to keep you safe out there.” Her expression was resolute when she held it up.

Eivor swallowed, mouth dry, but nodded, leaning down so Randvi could pull it over her head until it rested on her cleavage. Heat spread through her when Randvi lingered, fingers tracing up to her neck and back down, her lower lip drawn between her teeth.

“It looks good on you.”

Eivor licked her lips, tilting her head to the side. “You’ll be with me then.” Eivor paused. “No matter if you stand beside me on the battlefield or not. My victories will be your victories, my spoils your spoils, the verses of my saga will sing your name most.” Eivor vowed, catching Randvi’s hand in hers.

She burned under her gaze, but held it. Certain like she was of the gods, of her fate, of Randvi, knowing deep in her gut they would remain next to each other till the end. The Norns who had weaved their fates, knotted their strings together and spun their lives on.

Randvi created distance between them, arms wrapped around herself. Eyes closed as she sighed.

Eivor’s hand fell limply to her side, feeling something slipping through her fingers, which she could not name. It tugged at the string tied around her heart, which tautened with every step Randvi took.

“Good Night, Eivor.” She watched her leave, wanted to say something, to keep her close, but was left in the dark, staring after her for a long time.

* * *

Eivor heaved another casket of honey-mead on top of the others, apprehensive the whole batch might tumble down. It would definitely be enough to last a month for the married couple and it was one worry less for Styrbjorn who kept hunting her down.

Ordering her around, a sheen of sweat on his face. She had never seen him this involved or shaken, which was either because of Sigurd or the hovering of Randvi’s brother Ulf.

She was relieved when they finally left with Sigurd for the ritual bathing before the wedding. She made sure Sigurd’s grandfather’s sword had been cleaned and polished, that her brother had the ring. The goat for the sacrifice was already tied in front of the longhouse, with Valka standing beside it. Eivor had bathed and cleaned her boots, throwing on her new cloak, and made sure all her weapons were on her.

She watched Ulf and Styrbjorn gather around Valka and folk of both clans followed. Despite this she slipped into the longhouse to make everything was in place and crashed into someone.

“Careful-Randvi?” She breathed out strangled, shaking her head disorientated like someone had just hit her over her head with a hammer.

Blinking rapidly, stupefied at the vision before her, every little detail burning themselves into her mind.

Randvi was-

Eivor lacked the words to describe her adequately.

Her hair was not up in her usual ponytail with half of it braided, but split into many little intricate braids mounting up into a big one which fell over her right shoulder. Baring the tattoo over her right brow and the one on her cheekbone completely.

Instead of her brown bear cloak, she had on a black cloak, made of fine fabric, with a hem out of white fox fur, which reached up to her jaw. An amulet was pinned to it depicting a wolf while her cloak was fastened to her blue and purple tunic with two brooches with Freya’s likeness on them.

Together with the sword strapped to her belt, it made a striking assembly and heat raced through Eivor like she had just been tossed into Muspelheim.

“Eivor?” Randvi fiddled with the vambrace on her arm. The blue of her eyes even more pronounced against the wheat crown on her head, adorned with different vibrant flowers.

“Beautiful.” She thought out load and Randvi’s cheeks flushed, while blood rushed through Eivor’s ears with how hard her heart pounded.

“Thank you, mighty drengr.” Randvi’s voice turned from soft to mischievous, brow ticking up familiarly. And it scorched down Eivor’s throat into her belly as if she was Sköll, capturing the sun and swallowing it.

Their gazes weighted heavy as they met and Randvi’s smile turned somber. All wrong and Eivor flinched as if she had been kicked into the chest. Randvi’s hand brushed over her shoulder, dusting her off. Fingers flexed and squeezed her all too gently, and Eivor covered her hand before she could leave. Swallowing as her knees shook like she was balancing on the edge of something-

The moment broke when a voice shouted Randvi’s name, her brother appearing at the door. “Randvi, it’s time.” His voice was rough, but the blank expression he had on the entire time he had been here slipped when he looked upon his sister.

Randvi simply nodded, gave Eivor a last glance that seemed too short. Her hand fell from Eivor’s shoulder and Eivor wanted to catch it in hers again, for a little longer. Not yet ready to let her go, to see her step out of the longhouse and into Sigurd’s waiting arms-

Randvi stood on her tiptoes and brushed the softest of kisses against Eivor’s jaw before she turned around, the slope of her shoulders turning resolute, head held high and Eivor barely registered the way Ulf glanced at her.

Everything around her slowed down, the world around her shaking with every beat of her heart.

_Oh._

Her eyes went wide, and she coughed, sight getting hazy. Impossible-. It could not be-

By the gods-

Was this what Baldr had felt? Utter confusion at the feeling of a sensation he had never known? How could he when he never been hurt? Did he know he was dying? Did the mistletoe burn like this? Did it simple pierce his body? Did it ache and sizzle like poison eating away on his skin? Did he scream? Or simply crumbled to the ground?

How did it feel the moment the mistletoe struck?

Was it like the realization that she had feelings for Randvi?

The thought alone shot through her like lightning, goosebumps rising it its wake, her skin tingled from it. She laughed, breathlessly, free like Synin spreading his wings and flying over the woods. Beneath her eyelids, still seeing them both watch the stars. Randvi twirling around her hammer in her hand, felling one enemy after another, riding beside her, the flames of her hair, wild and messy from the wind, her laughter ringing in her ears-

Only to choke, clicking her teeth together hard when her jaw clenched shut. Sigurd. She stumbled more than walked to the door, eyes finding him, standing tall, a grin on his lip as he took the ring resting on the pommel of the sword which Randvi presented to him-

She faltered in her steps as if an arrow had struck her, floor unsteady beneath her feet and she braced herself against the longhouse. Pain. Unbearable pain. Agony flooding her body-

Barely hearing the cheers and whistles over the whine in her ear, observing uncomprehending Valka dip a bundle of fir-twigs into a bowl of blood and sprinkle it on the couple-

Couple. Sigurd and Randvi were now married. Bound, sworn to each other, sewn together in the patterns of fate-

Eivor slipped away and ran. Away from the ceremony, from the longhouse, from the Fornburg. Running till she could not take another step, falling to her knees in the middle of the woods, uncaring how the snow soaked her breeches.

Panting, grasping for breath. Eivor clawed at her chest, reaching under her armor, expecting to touch a gaping wound for blood to drip over her fingers. Hunching over like a wounded animal expecting the killing blow. But only touched unharmed skin.

How could she do this? How could she not have noticed? When had turned her indifference into admiration, into-love? She stumbled over the word, even in her thoughts, it settling on her tongue like ash, like ruin-

Eivor fell forward, hitting the snow with both of her fists. Never had she been touched by so much torment. A rabid beast tearing through her chest-

Breaking, tearing through it.

Something hot dropped onto her hands and for the blink of an eye she believed she truly bled. But the heat in her eyes, spilled over her cheeks-she was crying, she realized disbelieving.

When Synin landed on her shoulder, cawing, a mangled sob escaped her.

She cried until it left her empty, hollow with nothing more left to give. Randvi had taken, or she had given everything.

Making out of herself a home, like Odin and his brothers, had made the earth out of Ymir.

Maybe she had been doing the same. Used her bones as pillars, her flesh as walls, her teeth for a roof and her hair for a bed. Building a home, a shelter. Or was it Randvi, who carved out a place inside Eivor, without her noticing until she was hollow, a wandering ruin. A gaping emptiness without Randvi.

She never knew love could be this lonely, this empty-

She never thought she would fall in love and certainly never like this, offering up her heart on a platter to someone who neither could accept nor grant an exchange for their own heart.

Randvi danced in her mind’s eye and love bled through her teeth, dripped from her mouth with every beat her heart gave. Her chest rattling wetly with every breath.

In the wilderness’s midst, Eivor sobbed, howled at the sky.

Unknowingly to her, another heart howled right back.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> like always I hope you enjoyed reading! :)
> 
> This is my first work for this fandom and English is not my first language therefore I’m always looking to improve. So if you see any mistakes, it would be nice if you let me know! The title is from the poem “The loneliest place” by Lang Leav, and I pictured Randvi in the way her concept art shows her. Sorry for the bunch of wolf references but I’m delighted by the thought of Randvi belonging to the Wolf-Clan and the way it gives later a new meaning to Eivor’s Wolf-Kissed. I have some ideas for a second part were all the feelings are resolved, but I’m not sure when I’ll write it.
> 
> Thank you for reading and until next time! :)


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